A poem for my Dad

To the greatest father ever, thank you. You are special, you are one of a kind, you are magnificently admirable and though I am not you, I strive to be just like you; And by that I mean strong. My strength bends under the weight of my own problems, but you..you could hold the weight of all our stresses and worries and not flinch. You taught me many things, but the one that stood out amongst the others was your ability to be emotionally vulnerable. Everyone who knew you knew you were a big cry baby, and that's one of the many things I loved about you. You never maintained a staunch, angry and distant figure but one that was present, loving and understanding. And that's how I'll always remember you; always laughing, always crying and always hugging. If anything, you taught me how to be loving. So, I promise to deal with my grief dad, in the best possible way I know; writing.

I promise to focus on the good rather than the bad,

I promise to love without boundaries,

I promise to make myself proud even before feeding my ego of priding others,

I promise to try my best in all things,

I promise to see the sunrise in every storm,

I promise to keep on the road and not lose track,

I promise to keep your name and legacy alive,

I promise to find myself again,

I promise to forgive without doubt and hesitation,

I promise to be kind to myself,

I promise I'll see you again, even if it means giving up all I have.

I promise dad, I promise.

Miracle

The way he’d revive himself,

Hand pounding against his chest,

A chest full of crazy knick knacks

Unimaginable things just like when he left.

He promised me he would at least try,

And until his last breath I held that word against him like it would grant him a few more seconds.

The doctor reckons miracles are just chance,

I agree.

They are a chance for God to work,

And though people go,

The process of elevation is painfully bliss,

Pure miracle,

Because a victory is pursued on the other side of life. 

A victory is won through the one who strengthens our fight.

My father left me broken;

But he mended my broken with unparalleled memories and wisdom,

The kind that remind me I am within his reach,

That death is not a fleeting moment of defeat but an invitation to the table with the prince of peace.

I miss seeing my fathers chest full of crazy knick knacks.

His surprise embraces and knuckle pounds,

His sound, his tangible presence.

But i'm happy that he's happy,

That he does not have to revive himself anymore and delay God's calling for his children's sake.

Because God makes no mistake.

He makes no mistake.

-E